


Becoming a Weasley

by KoraKwidditch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Celebrating Holidays, Choking, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Forced Marriage, Glasses are really hot, Good Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Light Angst, POV Pansy Parkinson, Percy Weasley Redemption, Porn With Plot, Protective Percy Weasley, Romantic Soulmates, Sassy Pansy Parkinson, Soulmates, its basically a relationship build up to smut, marriage law, only a little, reluctant pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 04:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29344407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKwidditch/pseuds/KoraKwidditch
Summary: When a Marriage Law is passed, and Pansy is matched to Percy Weasley, her entire life is flipped upside down.Becoming a Weasley wasn't her plan, and now it's all she has.
Relationships: Pansy Parkinson/Percy Weasley
Comments: 23
Kudos: 74
Collections: Rare Pairs RHM Read for LoveFest, With Love Weasley





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [With_Love_Weasley](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/With_Love_Weasley) collection. 



> This story, like most, ran away with me lol. I absolutely loved writing ParkWeasel, so expect some more of them to pop up from time to time. 
> 
> Much love, as always, to my AlphaBet, FaeOrabel!
> 
> Prompt: Established marriage law celebrate their first Valentine’s Day together.

**Chapter One**

Pansy Parkinson never thought that this would be her life. She always thought— _ knew _ —it would entail marrying a pureblood wizard, having a child or two, and becoming a socialite like her mother. 

But no. Instead, here she was—marrying a Weasley. 

It all started with the damned Ministry. They saw the dwindling numbers after the war, the need to rebuild, and thought hey, you know what would be a great idea? _ Forcing people to get married. _

They barely even gave notice, instead sending a letter to every citizen and forcing any unmarried citizens of the ‘child-bearing age’ to submit blood samples the next day. Then, to ensure the best hope at producing offspring, they paired you with your ‘ideal genetic match.’ Failure to comply with the law would provide a swift wand snap and life-ban from the wizarding world.

It had caused an uproar. Hermione Granger had tried her hardest to convince Minister Shacklebolt to reverse the law, but he was steadfast in the decision. After Granger and her Swot Team failed, the pureblood society had attempted to bribe whoever they could. Pansy’s father had offered Shacklebolt nearly fifty thousand galleons to pair her with someone from their inner circle, but Shacklebolt was as good as they came. He told her father that the magic involved wouldn’t allow outside influence, but Pansy didn’t believe that. 

When Pansy received her match letter, her father nearly burnt their house to the ground in anger. She was sure Shacklebolt had paired her with Percy Weasley as a slight against her family. 

She’d never even talked to him, except once in second-year when he took house points from her for being out of bed past curfew. Percy had been there during the war, had fought with his family, but Pansy had only seen him for a brief moment. And that was nearly a year ago. 

The man before her was...not the same as what she remembered. Percy Weasley was a tall, hulking figure, still lanky, but not at all like he had been in school. No, his robes had been cut precisely to emphasise just how strong his arms were. 

Percy nodded in greeting to both her and her mother, his bright blue eyes flashing behind black-rimmed spectacles. “Will Mr Parkinson be joining us?” 

“I’m afraid my husband was ill this morning, but he sends his best.” Her mother interjected, lying through a strained smile. Pansy’s father refused to be in the same room as a Weasley and refused to acknowledge she was marrying one. Pansy knew he would disown her once this was all over and she had the Weasley name. That thought made her throat close. 

Pansy said nothing in reply. She wrinkled her nose and stepped past Percy to the Minister's office. Today was her wedding day, and she just wanted to get it over with. Some of the better-matched couples had opted for extravagant weddings, but people like her had instead chosen to do it as privately as possible. Draco, who was matched to  _ Granger  _ of all people, married her in the dead of night, with no one else except for the Minister. The shame he felt had to be double what Pansy did. 

Pansy had tried, had  _ begged  _ her father to do anything he could to stop this. And Pansy didn’t beg lightly. But there was nothing to be done, nothing, except marry Weasley. 

But Pansy wouldn’t take that lying down. 

“Pansy, Percy, Mrs Parkinson. Lovely to see you all.” Shacklebolt greeted as they stepped into his office. He stood from his desk and rounded it, shaking Percy’s hand. When he offered one to Pansy, she sniffed and turned her head sharply. The idea of shaking the hand of the man who ruined her life turned her stomach. 

But Shacklebolt only chuckled and shook her mother’s hand. It sparked the flames of Pansy’s irritation. 

“Well, I won’t delay, let’s get on with it.” Shacklebolt reached for a strip of golden fabric piled atop his desk and gestured for them to walk forward. Percy, the Ministry dog that he was, did so without hesitation. On the other hand, Pansy needed a sharp pinch from her mother to take the necessary steps. Shacklebolt smiled at her in a way that made her want to reach up and smack it from his face. It was condescending; like she was a little girl who didn’t know what she wanted. But she was twenty, and she wasn’t a fool. Pansy knew she had to do this—that she had no other choice. 

Shacklebolt gestured down to their hands, “Hold your hands out, Percy. And Pansy, please place yours in his.” 

Hands waiting in mid-air, Percy’s long fingers stretched out in invitation. Pansy pressed her lips together and held her breath, hesitating as she stared at the ugly freckled skin. Surprisingly his hands were larger than she imagined; much larger than hers. 

Percy’s fingers flexed in the air. She gave a desperate glance to her mother, who replied with a sharp glare to  _ just get on with it _ . 

Pansy shoved her hands into Percy’s with a forceful huff, his fingers curling around her palm.

And the strangest thing happened. 

A sudden spark tingled from her fingertips and straight up her arms, cascading over her skin like a current-charged waterfall. A strangled gasp left her lips as a low grunt left Percy’s, but before either could pull their hands away, Shacklebolt wrapped them in the golden fabric. With their hands now tethered together, the electricity continued, goosebumps breaking out over Pansy’s skin. 

“What you’re experiencing,” Shacklebolt explained as he pulled out his wand, “is the soulmate bond reaching for its pair.” 

Pansy heard her mother gasp softly, though the roaring in her ears made hearing difficult. Her gaze stayed fixated on their hands. Soulmate. Percy Weasley was her soulmate. 

“Is that…” Pansy forced out. “That’s what the blood was for.” 

Shacklebolt nodded and tapped his wand to the top of the fabric. Bright silver streaks of magic ran in tandem with the threads, making their hands glow as magic surrounded them. “Though I can’t get into too many specifics, what I  _ can  _ tell you is that we’ve had our Unspeakables developing this since the War ended. Our system wasn’t random. We wanted to ensure the proper matches for our citizens; ones that would benefit the Wizarding World,  _ and _ the couples we’re forcing to get married.” 

Pansy could feel Percy’s fingers tighten around her own, and it did something funny to her stomach. 

“If we’re... what you say we are,” Pansy couldn’t manage to call Percy her soulmate. “Then what is it you’re doing with the fabric?” 

Shacklebolt smiled and looked to Percy, “Would you care to explain since you created it?” 

Pansy, who had kept her eyes completely averted from Percy’s face, snapped them instantly up. Sapphire burned into her forest green, and a thrill—that she vehemently tried to ignore— ran through her. 

“This cements the bond to the Ministry,” Percy’s deep voice vibrated in Pansy’s chest. “It’s similar to an unbreakable vow, but not quite as severe. You won’t die if you break it.” 

Pansy frowned and pressed her lips together, glaring at the small smile Percy gave her. “And what? We vow to fuck like rabbits and give the Ministry all the children they want?” 

Her mother gasped behind her, “Pansy!”

Shacklebolt coughed into his hand, amusement lacing his features. It only fueled Pansy’s anger. “I suppose in a manner of speaking, yes.” 

Pansy said nothing. Instead, her eyes returned to burning a hole into their joined hands. Electricity still cascaded over her skin, though it lessened the longer they touched. 

“I promise I’ll be good to you, Pansy,” Percy whispered, squeezing her hands gently. 

Pansy let out a sharp laugh, “Even if you were horrible, I don’t have much choice in the matter, do I?” 

The room fell silent, and Shacklebolt twisted his wand, the silver strings tightening on their hands. “A kiss is needed to declare the bond official.”

The sparks returned to Pansy’s skin as she took a sharp inhale of air, steeling herself. She just wanted it to be over. 

Raising her face and closing her eyes, she felt Percy lean down. He gently touched his lips to hers, causing a knee-buckling feeling to overwhelm her. Electricity met fire, pulling her beneath a raging inferno. Before Pansy could succumb to it and wrap her arms around Percy, he stepped away. 

And just like that, they were married.


	2. Two

** Chapter Two **

It had been three days— _three days_ —since she moved in, and she already wanted to rip her hair out. The flat was more agreeable than Pansy expected; she was certainly glad it wasn’t as ratty as what their family home was rumoured to be. 

After her archaic dowry transferred to Percy's vaults, she’d been given the day to have her things collected. Pansy’s head had buzzed for hours after that small kiss, leaving her body with a floaty sort of feeling. It had been the most peculiar sensation. She hadn’t been quite as upset as she initially had been, though that all came crashing down around her when she returned home. 

_Her father went into a rage, destroying nearly everything Pansy owned. She and her mother stepped through the ripped fabric of her bed, feathers floating through the air around them. Makeup laid in piles of powder on the dark wooden floors. He was still in her closet, the sounds of crashing and tearing fabric echoing against the vaulted ceilings._

_When Pansy realised what he was destroying, she rushed forward, bolting behind the door._

_“There she is,” he spat at her, bolts of midnight blue fabric in his hands. “Mrs Weasley.”_

_“What are you doing?” Pansy whispered, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. Months of hard work spread in tatters around her father’s feet._

_He gave her a spine-chilling grin, “I no longer have a daughter, so I’m destroying what belonged to her.”_

_“Please, let me just take my things, father—”_

_“Don't call me that!” He interrupted, his voice shrill. “I’m no longer your father. My daughter is dead to me.”_

_Though she assumed this would happen, the words still twisted a knife through Pansy’s heart. “Please—just let me take my sketches.”_

_When she reached out to take the sketchbook that had been atop a nearby shoebox, her father snatched her arm so tightly Pansy was surprised it didn’t break. A small gasp sounded from the door, reminding Pansy that her mother had watched the entire thing and stayed silent._

_Rage began to burn through Pansy, and the tighter her father gripped her arm, the hotter it got. She flicked her fingers at her father, his body pulling from hers as invisible ropes wrapped around his torso._

_“Since I’m no longer your daughter,” Pansy said, her voice wavering slightly with adrenaline. She had never stood up to him before. “Then you can’t touch me like this any longer.”_

_Clothes began to pack themselves in a small travel bag, and just as her father managed to unbind himself, Pansy Apparated from the room._

Of course, she hadn’t managed to get her sketchbook in time, so now she had to start from scratch. She’d never manage to launch her clothing line now, especially without being able to depend on the Malfoy money anymore. 

Her arm still ached from where he had grabbed her, and bright purple bruises, now laced with a tinge of yellow, marked the skin. Bruise paste would get rid of them in an instant, but Pansy didn’t know where Percy kept his medical kit. 

In fact, she didn’t know where he kept most things. She’d barely seen him since she moved in; apparently, he liked to work long hours. By the time she rose, he had already left, and he didn’t return until nearly nine or ten at night. He didn’t own any house-elves, so Pansy was left to her own devices. It took her many tries to manage more than a bowl of oatmeal or cereal. 

At the very least, Percy kept a well-stocked library. He had an entire room filled to the brim with books, and told her during the initial house tour that she was welcome to anything in it. Pansy had spent the last two days devouring everything she could touch. Her father had never thought reading was acceptable for women, so of course one of Pansy’s favourite things to do was read. 

The library was where Percy found Pansy that night, curled up in the oversized wingback chair. She hadn’t seen him at first, her focus centred on the book she was consuming. Mystery stories were always her favourite; she got a thrill from figuring it out before the narrator revealed it. 

“What are you read—Pansy, what’s on your arm?” 

She had been wearing a short-sleeved shirt and absently rubbing at the bruises on her upper arm when Percy walked over. 

Pansy tugged her sleeve down when she realised and snapped her book shut. “It’s nothing to concern you.”

Percy frowned and sat in the chair across from her, his hair turning a brighter shade of orange as the fire reflected on it. He took off his glasses and sighed. “Pansy, are those bruises?” 

“It’s nothing,” Pansy replied, standing from the chair. “I’m tired, goodnight.” 

That was far from the truth, but better she retreated to her room than admit to a Weasley that she was hurt. It was over and done with, in any case. Her father already publicly declared Pansy was no longer his daughter. 

Luckily they had separate bedrooms, though his door was right across the narrow hall. She supposed at some point she’d have to tell him what happened; why she had Apparated to his flat in a complete dishevelled state. He had asked her what was wrong, but Pansy had only brushed it off. Thankfully he dropped it and gave her a tour of the flat, disappearing into his office immediately after to do work. It was the most time she’d spent with him since arriving—not that she was complaining, of course. 

But no, she would have to tell him. She barely had any clothing and would need a new sketchbook and fabric bolts to restart her clothing line. With a twisted heart, Pansy slipped into her only pair of pyjamas and went to bed.

She laid in her bed for a few hours and read her book, unmasking the killer nearly a hundred pages before the reveal. She heard Percy close his door and glanced at her clock to check the time. It was nearly midnight. He really must be a workaholic. 

Setting her book on her table, Pansy sighed. She was so utterly _bored_. Draco had yet to write her back, no doubt dealing with an insane Granger. Tomorrow she would speak to Percy about going to Diagon so she could buy a few things. There was no way he spent her dowry already unless her father had cut that, too. What a laugh it would be to find out he only transferred five galleons instead of the five-thousand she was promised.

Pushing thoughts of her father away, Pansy settled beneath her blanket and fell into an easy sleep. She tried not to think too hard about how comfortable she felt in Percy’s home. 

* * *

Pansy woke at eight o’clock, sunlight streaming through the nearby window. Morning dew collected against the glass, and she could already feel the soft chill of mid-autumn radiate from it. Autumn always was her favourite season, and it brightened her spirits considerably. Maybe she’d explore the neighbourhood today. 

After showering and dressing in the same clothes as the day she arrived—thanks to only having a few items—Pansy opened her door to discover a small floating bottle in front of it. 

_Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes Bruise Removal Paste_

A note floated next to it, and Pansy reached for both items. 

_Pansy,_

_This is from my brothers’ shop. It works well; please use it._

_If you have no other plans today, I would like to have dinner with you. I’ll be home around five._

_Percy_

Pansy immediately put the paste on her arm, breathing a sigh of relief as the ugly purple marks left her skin. It was the last thing she had of her father, and now it truly felt like she was free. 

What an odd sensation. 

Placing the bottle on her dresser, Pansy stared down at her hand. Two runes had appeared on her ring finger after the ceremony, one for love and another for binding. She had tried to rub them off viciously, but they were permanently on her skin like a tattoo. It felt so odd to… _belong_ to someone like this. To know they were supposed to be your perfect match, and yet they knew nothing about each other. 

She went about her day in a blur, strolling around the town Percy lived in, basking in the warm glow of an October sun. Every time she thought of Percy coming home early, her stomach flipped. Why did he want to have dinner with her? At the very least she would get the chance to ask him about Diagon. 

Five o’clock came much too quickly, and Pansy fretted a moment about her appearance before realising what she was doing. What did she care what Percy thought of her? He was already her husband, and a Weasley. His opinion didn’t matter. 

When she left her room, Percy was already home, busying himself in the kitchen. 

“Hello,” he called out as he pulled food from the refrigerator. “I’m going to make chicken marinara, is that alright?” 

Pansy nodded, surprised that he even knew how to cook. Percy flicked his wand at the stove while Pansy sat at the small table nearby and watched as he cooked. She’d never seen a man cook like this before. It was so odd, and yet, something stirred in her as she watched. 

He’d taken off his suit jacket; his button-up shirt messily rolled to the elbow. Faint scars littered his forearms, the white lines glinting in the light as he chopped food. 

“What happened to your arms?” Pansy blurted out. She could feel a faint blush heat her cheeks as he glanced at her in surprise of her outburst. 

Percy pressed his lips together as he tossed the chicken into the pan. “The same thing that happened to yours. Nothing.” 

Pansy’s irritation flared to life. She hadn’t even meant to ask the damned question, and he replied with that? She _should_ say nothing and drop it, but unfortunately, dropping things wasn’t one of Pansy’s strong suits.

“If I tell you, will you tell me?” 

Percy smirked as he cast a spell on the spatula and turned to face her. “Of course.” 

Pansy narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms, “When I went home with my mother to get my things, my father was destroying my room. I tried to get my sketchbook, but he grabbed my arm before I could.” 

Percy opened his mouth, probably to say some ridiculous Gryffindor thing like he would fight him, but Pansy continued before he could. 

“I managed to bind him with an Incarcerous and get some clothes, but he was out of the spell too quickly. I barely managed to Apparate here.” Pansy rubbed absently at her forehead. “I suppose I could’ve cast an Accio for it but I—I panicked.” 

Sitting across the table, Percy gently took her hand. The electric current was back, and Pansy sucked in a sharp gasp. She’d almost forgotten that bit—the soulmate bond. Percy’s eyes flashed briefly, but he continued as if it didn’t even affect him. For some reason, that observation annoyed her.

“These are from the war,” Percy said, turning his arm over to show the jagged scars that ran up and down them. “Fred got trapped beneath a fallen wall, and I rescued him. I can’t get into much detail because of my job, but I used an experimental spell that stopped him from dying. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a perfect spell. It took as much as it gave—blood for blood.” 

Percy’s eyes went cloudy as he spoke, his voice turning to a whisper. They both stared at his arms, and just as Pansy reached out to run her finger along one of the deeper scars, the spatula clattered against the pan. It pulled them out of whatever bubble they’d both been in, and Percy quickly stood to oversee the cooking. 

“But he lived, so it worked right?” Pansy said, trying to break the awkward tension in the air. Tension was one of her least favourite things. 

“Yes, thank Merlin.” 

Pansy frowned as she watched Percy cook. He refused to look back at her, keeping his eyes entirely on the task at hand. She sighed quietly and leant her head in her hand. “So what is it you do for work, anyway, that makes it all secretive?” 

Percy flicked his wand to add the tomatoes to the pan, “I’m an Unspeakable. And yes, before you ask, that’s all I can say.” 

Snapping her jaw shut, Pansy bristled and glared at the wood of the table. Her nail picked at a particularly annoying mark in it. 

“What about you, Pansy? What do you do? You mentioned a sketchbook, do you draw?” 

“Something like that,” Pansy said, sighing and leaning back in the chair. “I make clothes. My sketchbook was filled with all of my designs of the last year. I had just started creating the line when all... _this_ happened.” 

Percy finally glanced back at her, “You don’t suppose your mother saved it?” 

A lead ball suddenly filled Pansy’s stomach. “My mother will do whatever my father says. As far as I’m concerned, I’m dead to both of them.”

The rhythmic sound of the enchanted knife chopping other vegetables filled the small kitchen. Percy had turned back to the stove as another beat of uncomfortable silence settled over them. 

“Don’t feel bad for me, Weasley,” Pansy said, continuing to scrape the mark in the table. “I’m a big girl. I’ll be fine.” 

Percy said nothing in reply, only continuing to cook. He stayed silent as he plated their food and brought it over to the table. The scent of spices and tomato sauce had been filling the kitchen for the better part of half-an-hour, and now Pansy’s stomach rolled with hunger. 

She dug in before Percy had even sat. It was the first time she had something that wasn’t cooked by a house-elf. Percy’s eyes watched her with a hint of amusement, a small smirk turning his lips. 

Pansy blushed and set her fork down, wiping her lips gently with a napkin. “There’s something I want to ask you, and I’ve never had to before so...” she took a deep breath, “Could I have some money?” 

“Why would you need to ask me for that?” Percy asked, his brow raised. 

Discomfort swelled in Pansy’s chest at having to explain herself, but she tried to keep her voice even. “I know my dowry was transferred to your vaults; I got the owl the day it happened. I would just need a small portion of it—” 

“I sent it back.” 

Pansy took a moment to process his words, anger cascading over her like a wave. “You _what?_ ” 

“I sent it back,” Percy repeated, shrugging as he ate. “It didn’t feel right to take it. It felt...like dirty money. Dowries have always been an odd practice to me.”

“But that...I could’ve used it—” 

“Pansy, you’re my _wife_. You have full, unrestricted access to my vaults. I placed your name on them the day we were wed. All I ask is you don’t empty them.” Percy smiled softly at her shocked face. “I may be a bit more sophisticated than my siblings, but I’m still a Weasley. And now you are, too. We take care of each other.” 

Pansy didn’t know what to say, so they fell into silence again as they ate. This time, though, it wasn’t uncomfortable. 

On the contrary, it felt...pleasant.


	3. Three

** Chapter Three **

Pansy hummed delightedly to herself as she sketched in her book, the familiar melody of The Weird Sisters’ ‘Magic Works’ playing on the wireless. 

_ Yeah, it's hard, you must be brave _

_ Don't let this moment slip away _

_ Now, believe _

_ That magic works _

_ And don't be afraid _

_ Afraid of bein' hurt _

Pansy stood and stretched, tossing the pencil atop her latest design. She walked to the nearby window, basking in the chilled November sunlight for a moment as she let the melody of the song wash over her. The Weird Sisters were one of her favourite bands, and hearing their songs always reminded her of the Yule Ball. Life had been easy then. Simple. 

Nothing was simple now. 

Percy, for his part, had been kind and generous. They’d even fallen into a comfortable rhythm the past few weeks. Percy came home every night around five o’clock, cooked them dinner, and they’d eat together, getting to know one another. 

She’d learned quite a bit about him. He had a girlfriend through most of school, but he’d changed too much and broke it off after the War. He had never planned to get married until the law passed. His favourite colour was green, but she was supposed to keep that a strict secret from his siblings—something that thrilled Pansy. Knowing secrets others didn’t was a favourite past time. 

He learned a bit about her too. Small things, like that when she was a child, Pansy had a pet bowtruckle that she kept in her coat pocket wherever she went. She didn’t tell Percy the part where her father had found out after two weeks and threatened to kill it if she didn’t get rid of it. Pansy told him the first time she performed accidental magic and turned Lucius Malfoy’s hair bright pink. That had earned her a wide grin and “well done” from Percy that she still thought about on occasion. 

The wireless’s music changed to Fleetwood Mac’s ‘Rhiannon’—a favourite of the wizarding community—and Pansy began to dance in the sunlight streaming through the window. 

_ She is like a cat in the dark _

_ And then she is the darkness _

_ She rules her life like a fine skylark _

_ And when the sky is starless  _

As she stretched her arms above her head, swaying in time to the soft guitar strums, the clearing of a throat had her spinning on her heel. 

Percy stood in the doorway, a smirk curling his lips as he leant on the doorframe. A glare shone on his glasses, but Pansy could still see the amusement laced in his sapphire orbs.

Her face turned so hot that she was sure it looked like a ripe tomato. 

_ She rings like a bell through the night _

_ And wouldn’t you love to love her? _

_ She rules her life like a bird in flight _

_ And who will be her lover? _

Pansy quickly walked toward the wireless, shutting it off with a click and bathing the room in awkward silence. 

Percy said nothing as he walked toward her, and he reached out to tuck a stray hair behind her ear. He’d begun giving her small touches a few days ago, always making the spark of electricity rush over her. She refused to acknowledge them in any way, so she was sure he assumed she was okay with them. And she supposed she was, but Pansy’s feelings on the matter were too complicated for even herself to figure out. 

“How would you feel about meeting my family next weekend?” 

If she didn’t want to die from embarrassment before, Pansy certainly wanted to die now. 

* * *

Pansy hated everything and everyone. She hated the stupid Weasley’s and their stupid brood, she  _ hated  _ Toad in the Hole, and she hated cheap wine. 

And of course, she was surrounded by all three. 

“So, Pansy,” Molly said as she spooned another serving of sausage on Pansy’s plate. “What have you been doing since the law was passed? Have you adjusted alright to living in Percy’s flat? I always told him that place was much too small, even for him to live in alone...”

Molly prattled away, not even caring that Pansy didn’t answer her questions. Percy gave her an apologetic look over his spectacles from across the table. Pansy only replied with a salute of her wine glass and downed its contents. 

“We were all so upset by the law, but I suppose the Ministry must think it best. It’s Kinglsey after all, and he was part of the Order, you know—” 

“Of course she knows, Mum,” Fred interjected. “Probably had the whole Order list memorised, didn’t you, Parkinson?”

Molly turned flustered, “Now Fred—” 

“It’s alright,” Pansy said, sitting up and lacing her fingers together. She rested her chin atop them and cocked her head in feigned interest. “Let him say his piece. Go ahead, Weasley, I’m sure you’re just bursting.” 

“Harry told us all about what happened in the Great Hall. That you pointed him out to Snape right before McGonagall took over. Probably would’ve handed us all over on a silver platter if given the chance. Wonder how proud daddy must be, with you marrying a Weasley.” Fred’s face turned a deep shade of scarlet, though the scars on the right side of his face—ones that matched Percy’s—remained white. 

George patted his twin on the shoulder and glared at Pansy. He stayed silent, but it was evident that he agreed with Fred. 

Percy cleared his throat and gave the twins a severe look that rivalled Pansy’s. “Need I remind you both that Pansy is my wife now?” His voice came out like ice. “What’s in the past is done; it was a terrifying time for all of us.” 

Shock coursed through Pansy. She didn’t expect him to defend her against his own family. But she was a Weasley now too, as much as she hated it. And as Percy said—they looked out for each other. 

“I was dead to my father the moment I married Percy, so you can stop wondering what he thinks.” Pansy sighed and placed her hands in her lap. “And for what it’s worth, I apologised to Potter after everything. Wrote him a nice long letter. I won’t explain my actions because no one needs to hear that story, but I am sorry for them.” 

Fred and George’s glares instantly turned to looks of surprise. 

“Where is Harry, anyway?” Arthur asked, his jovial tone breaking the awkward air. 

“Probably off with his new wife,” Fleur piped up, the baby in her arms cooing gently. “From what I hear, Daphne is quite the handful.” 

Pansy choked on her wine, “Daphne Greengrass? And Potter? You must be joking.”

“Didn’t you see the Prophet? They ran a front-page spread for weeks afterwards, same with Hermione getting matched to Malfoy and Ron marrying Cho Chang—from Ravenclaw.” George said around a mouthful of food. “Apparently Greengrass has Harry by his bollocks though, man is already half in love with her—” 

“George Fabian Weasley!” Molly began to yell at him, accosting him for his foul language, “You’ll soon be the same, once you and Fred get your matches!” 

George and Fred both turned a pleasing shade of pale that made Pansy grin like a tiger. She much preferred the Weasley’s like this, Molly chastising her grown children while they looked like whipped pups.

“Draco is probably in the same boat,” Pansy replied, frowning at her empty glass. “It’s been over a month, and he  _ still  _ hasn’t owled me back. Granger’s sure to already have him wrapped around her pinky finger.” 

Her comment earned her huffs of laughter from the twins and a wide grin from Bill. Even Molly and Arthur seemed amused. Percy was the only one frowning, however. He knew how hurt she actually was by Draco’s lack of communication; she confessed as much one night after too much wine. 

“I suppose you’re alright now, Parkinson,” Fred said, leaning back in his chair.

George did the same, “But you’re still on a trial period, just so you know.” 

Pansy reached for the wine bottle as it floated next to her. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.” She glanced at Percy across the table, her leg instinctively reaching out to press against his. The electric spark shot straight to her core. 

“And it’s not Parkinson anymore. It’s Weasley.”

* * *

The feel of coming home was like a soft blanket, and Pansy let the warm sensation of it wrap around her. She had long given up on pretending like she wasn’t comfortable in Percy’s flat— _t_ _ heir  _ flat, as he always liked to correct her. 

“You did extremely well tonight,” Percy said, sliding her coat off her arms and levitating it into the nearby closet. 

Pansy took a moment to push away the satisfaction from the praise before answering. “It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be, though I think next time I may need to bring my own wine.” 

“And maybe not beat the twins into such a pulp at exploding snap.” 

Pansy met Percy’s grin, “If they weren’t such rubbish at it, then they could’ve beat me. I refuse to allow them to win out of pity. They’ll just have to get better.” 

They both walked down the hall to their bedrooms, the hour already nearing midnight. Despite her resistance, Pansy had enjoyed herself at the Burrow. It was ratty, rundown, and could use a bit of sprucing up, but it felt… welcoming. Like she had always belonged there. 

Once dinner was over, and the twins finally stopped glaring at her, they had all gone to the living room to play games. Pansy had always excelled at competitions; she’d made it a point to be in her younger years. Mostly so she could hold it over any boy that challenged her. 

As they both walked to their respective doors, the air suddenly shifted from light and jovial to heavy and tense. Pansy turned to look at Percy, who was staring down at her with liquid sapphire eyes. He took his glasses off and pocketed them, his eyes darkening in the dim light. 

“Pansy...” Percy whispered. “I was wondering. Could I… could I kiss you?” 

Pansy leant against the wood of her door, her heart increasing with speed as Percy walked closer to her. “Why?” 

He reached out to brush the hair from her face, and Pansy let out a small gasp as a spark slid down her spine. 

“I know you feel that,” Percy said gently, his eyes searching hers. “I feel it, too. We’re soulmates, Pansy. We’re connected; our  _ magic  _ is connected. I know you don’t like me, but I—I like you.”

The beat of Pansy’s heart stopped dead in its tracks, a lump forming in her throat. She’d never admit it out loud—not now anyway—but tonight showed her she did care for him. Or that at least, she was starting to. And he was right, as much as she tried to deny it, they were soulmates. She would be bound to him no matter what, so what was the use in rejecting it? 

“You can kiss me.” 

Percy came closer instantly, his body pressing against hers with gentle pressure. His hands came up to her face in a delicate hold, enough that she could pull away if she wanted. But she didn’t. She wanted this. As much as her pureblood upbringing screamed at her to run far away, her body wanted him more. No—not just her body, but her heart, too. 

This was right. 

This was home. 

And when Percy pressed his lips to hers, her entire being shattered. 

Pansy leant into him like a tether, her mind floating high above them. Every nerve sang, every inch of her skin felt like fire. She didn’t hold back like she had at their wedding. Pansy let Percy feel it; feel how much she wanted him. 

He pulled away first like he had before, his forehead leaning against hers as they both caught their breath. 

“Sleep in my room tonight,” he asked, his voice strained. 

Pansy hesitated, not because she didn’t want to, but because she had never... Well as much of a big game as she liked to talk, she had never slept with someone before. The thought of it terrified her, but she wanted to. She wanted to be with him.

But Percy felt her hesitation, “We don’t have to do that yet. I’m not in a rush, Pansy. I just… after that… I want to be with you more. I’m not ready to say goodnight yet.” 

Her heart fluttered at his words. She felt the same, but she wasn’t ready to admit it, especially out loud. “Okay.” 

Percy’s bed was twice the size of hers, though it could’ve been the size of a house-elves and she would’ve never known. Percy refused to let her go for even a moment; his hands stayed on some part of her body for the entire night. Whether they rubbed soothing circles into her back or wrapped around her waist to pull her flush against his chest, they never stopped touching her.

She didn’t think she’d manage to fall asleep—the tension in the air was palpable. But at some point she did, and it was the best sleep Pansy had ever had.


	4. Four

**Chapter Four**

In a blink of an eye, Christmas was upon them. The holiday season had lifted everyone's moods considerably. Most of the matched couples were now either entirely in bliss or announcing pregnancies. Pansy and Percy, for their part, had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. They slept together every night and kissed frequently, but had yet to go beyond that. 

Draco had finally contacted her, shortly after the dinner at the Burrow. He had apologised for his lack of communication, but between his frightful parents and a wife who hated him, his hands had been a bit full. He and Granger were still a bit tense, but they seemed to be coming around. 

One line he had written in his letter had stuck with her, though. It was something she repeated to herself daily. 

_ I guess these Gryffindors weren’t as bad as we thought. _

“Are you ready, darling?” Percy asked, holding her coat open. He had started calling her the pet name shortly after they began to sleep together. It always caused a bout of butterflies to flutter in her stomach. 

No. These Gryffindors certainly weren’t as bad as she originally thought. 

* * *

“Are you daft, Ron? You really think the _ Chudley Cannons _ are better than the Arrows? You realise the Canons didn’t win a single game last season, right?” 

Pansy watched with reserved amusement as Ron’s wife, Cho, laid into him for his rubbish Quidditch preferences. But she had to agree with the Scot on this one. The Cannons were a complete joke; not to mention their horrid colour combination. 

Draco rolled his eyes across the room and scoffed, joining in on the argument. He’d had an even rougher time gaining the approval of the Weasley’s than Pansy. But eventually, everyone came around, and they were now an odd mismatch of people— _ family _ . Hermione sat next to Draco, their arms pressed together, indicating they didn’t mind being close anymore. Or it could have been from Luna and Fred taking up most of the other side. 

“Where did Harry go?” Ron asked, searching the room. “He likes the Cannons, too!” 

“He and Daphne snuck off a while ago,” George said, his new wife Susan Bones grinning devilishly next to him. “Probably snogging in the broom shed.” 

Percy’s thumb began to run gentle circles on Pansy’s shoulder, his arm tightening its hold around her. His voice lowered to a whisper as the room returned to the argument at hand. “Speaking of sneaking off, let’s go outside.” 

Pansy let out a small breath to push away the things his whispered words did to her. “Okay.” 

A few curious glances aimed their way as they stood and walked to the kitchen, donning their coats before heading out to the snow-filled garden. 

“I have something for you,” Percy told her. “Something I wanted to give to you in private.”

“Oh, I do love a good secret,” she joked as her hand instinctively slid into the crook of his elbow as they walked further from the house. 

Percy gave her a small smile in return, pulling a tiny box from the inside of his pocket. Pansy knew what it was immediately. 

“A ring?” she asked as it was placed in her waiting palm. 

Percy nodded, “I know we have the runes, but I wanted something proper. Something that shows you how dedicated I am to this—to us.” 

Pansy’s stomach fluttered, and her heart sang. He always knew what to say to make her feel cherished. Pulling from his arm, Pansy quickly opened the box and sucked in an audible gasp. 

It was perfect. A large sapphire, the same colour as Percy’s eyes sat on a band made of white gold. Two moonstones sat on either side of it, reflecting the sapphire’s colour. 

Percy pulled the ring from the box and slid it over Pansy’s finger, the band forming to fit instantly. It clashed beautifully with the runes on her skin. Percy pulled a second box from his coat and opened it, revealing a matching band that he slid onto his own finger. 

“I love it,” Pansy muttered, wrapping her arms around Percy’s neck to pull him down for a chaste kiss. “Thank you.” 

“Happy Christmas,” Percy whispered, trailing kisses across her cheeks and back to her lips. 

Pansy smiled. She had never been happier than this moment. As much as she hated to admit it, the Ministry had finally done something right. 

“Happy Christmas, Percy.” 

* * *

Pansy would make Valentine's Day perfect. She’d had enough of the tension between her and Percy; enough of the sexual electricity in the air every time they were alone. She was still terrified of it, still unsure what it would mean for them—for her. But Salazar save her; she wanted him so badly it hurt. 

They had yet to go beyond heavy snogging; every time it started to go further, Pansy would panic, and Percy would stop. He never pressed her, never forced her to do anything she didn’t want to. But after hearing from Daphne how amazing sex was, and now finding out bloody Draco and Granger managed to have sex before her and Percy, she was determined. 

There was that one time in his library, however. 

Pansy had been frustrated over a current sketch, while Percy researched for work. After breaking a pencil and shouting in rage, Percy had stood instantly and kissed her. 

The anger she felt drove their kiss to a heated frenzy, and Percy had shoved her against the bookshelf, trapping her with his body. It had been maddening how easily he overpowered her; made her feel small and delicate. And then he wrapped his hand gently around her throat and whispered heated words into her ear that still made her shiver. 

_ “If you’d like to scream, Pansy, I can make you scream. You need only ask.”  _

He had disappeared after that, taking his book to his room. Pansy had stayed rooted to the spot for minutes afterwards, breath ragged and panties ruined. 

But she hadn’t asked him. She was a coward, and too afraid of what it would mean. 

Percy never brought it up—never tried anything like that again. And as they celebrated her birthday last week at the Burrow, Pansy had realised with a start that she loved him. She had looked over at him with the twins, a broad grin on his face as they told him a joke. He took his glasses off to clean them on his shirt, and his piercing blue eyes found her instantly. The grin transformed into a small smile—just for her—and she melted. 

Today, Pansy had decorated the flat top to bottom in disgusting red and pink hearts. They floated around the room, hung from strings on the walls, and were scattered across every inch of surface she could find. It was nauseatingly romantic, but maybe it would sway Percy enough to finally want her.

Her outfit, at least, was the one thing she liked. A red lace lingerie dress hugged her tightly, stopping at the tops of her thighs. The only thing she wore on her legs were a pair of daringly high, red stilettos—the kind that made people wonder how the hell she could walk in them. 

She sat on the couch for nearly thirty minutes before the Floo roared to life. Standing quickly, Pansy smoothed her short hair and walked to the centre of the room. The vein in her throat jumped with the speed of her heart. 

Percy took one step through the Floo, looked around at their horribly decorated flat, and burst into roaring laughter. Pansy realised she had never heard him laugh before. In the five months they had been together, she had only seen him smile, but never laugh. 

And now he was laughing  _ at her.  _

Hot angry tears pricked the corners of Pansy’s eyes. “This was all rubbish, anyway! If you didn’t want to fuck me, all you had to do was say so!” 

And then she ran to her room, the one across the hall that she hadn’t even been in since she started sleeping in Percy’s. The door slammed behind her, and she flicked her wand to lock it. Kicking off her stupid heels, she chucked them into the closet and slammed that closed too for good measure. 

A knock echoed on the door. “Pansy, come out, please. I wasn’t laughing at you! It was just… unexpected. I didn’t know you liked Valentine’s Day, or that you had all this planned.” 

Pansy stared at herself in the mirror; the lace dress now looked ridiculous. “I hate Valentine’s Day!” she shouted back, sliding the straps down her arms. “And I hate it here! I want to leave.” 

“You don’t mean that. Can I please come in?” 

“No,” Pansy replied, pulling the dress down her hips. “I’m leaving.” 

Silence answered her, and she glanced to the door only to see the lock turning. Percy opened it a moment later, the wood pushing a breeze past her. Pansy quickly covered her exposed breasts, the dress pooled around her feet. 

Percy took one look at her, completely naked and enraged, and stalked toward her. His large figure surrounded her, making her feel small and delicate like usual.

“What’s wrong, Pansy?” Percy forced out, his eyes stayed on hers, never dipping lower. “Why do you want to leave?” 

“Because you don’t want me,” she replied, her eyes glaring to slits. 

Percy frowned, his hands reaching toward her carefully, like she was a doe ready to bolt. “Pansy. I think about you all day long. When I’m not with you, I feel incomplete. We’re  _ soulmates _ . Do I have to say it again? You’re my  _ match _ , Pansy. I only want you.” 

Pansy suddenly felt like a silly child. “Why do you never try then? To be intimate?” 

“I didn’t want to rush you, darling,” Percy replied, his hands circling her in a gentle embrace. His cologne washed over her like a familiar wave. “But Godric have I wanted to. Do you know how absolutely insane you drive me?” 

Pansy laughed lightly as she buried her head into his shirt, hands gripping the fabric. “Well now that you’ve confessed it, I hope you know I plan to use it against you.” 

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from the Slytherin princess.” 

They both pulled away, smiling as the tone changed to one of happiness. Percy’s eyes finally darted lower, and Pansy realised she was still completely naked. 

“I...um—” 

“I’m sad I won’t get to undress my wife for our first time,” Percy interrupted, his heated gaze flickering back up to hers, “But I suppose we can always try again later.” 

Then he captured her lips in a searing kiss that had her skin tingling and stomach flipping. Pansy pulled him closer, the rough fabric of his suit rubbing against her. Pushing his jacket off, the garment hit the ground in a soft thud. She made a mental note to damn the inventor of buttons as she began to undo his shirt next. Percy’s hands helped her in a rush, taking off his leather belt and sliding his trousers down his legs. 

Pansy ran her fingers over every inch of Percy’s chest once the damned shirt was open. She already knew what his chest looked like since he preferred to sleep without a shirt on, but this was the first time her hands had run along it; had felt the firm muscle and old scars. 

Her body flushed with raging desire. 

Percy walked them backwards toward her old bed, and Pansy fell atop it with a soft grunt. Her husband stood before her in all his glory, his length thick and hard, and  _ Merlin forbid, _ she wanted to touch him. He tossed his glasses to the nightstand nearby, his darkened gaze never leaving hers. 

Climbing above her, Percy’s mouth found hers again, their tongues following. Tender caresses ran along her ribcage; his thumb skimmed the underside of her breast. 

When Pansy moaned at the contact, Percy didn’t hesitate to take her fully in hand. He squeezed experimentally, finding the perfect pressure to have her writhing beneath him. She could feel the tip of his cock brush against her as he hovered, and gods she just wanted him to fuck her. She could feel herself get even wetter at the thought. 

“Percy,” she panted out after breaking their kiss.

Percy didn’t reply, only trailed his lips down her neck and to her free breast, pulling the nipple into his mouth. Pansy cried out as he gently bit down, her hips reaching for friction that wasn’t there. 

“Please,” she begged. 

“You’re not ready yet,” Percy replied, his breath ghosting over her wet nipple. Goosebumps broke over her skin at the sensation. 

Pansy didn’t know what he meant, “What?” 

“Just—let me take care of you,” Percy said as his mouth trailed lower, “I promised to always take care of you, remember?” 

Pansy didn’t reply—couldn’t reply—because the moment Percy finished speaking, his mouth was on her clit. His tongue darted out to flick it softly, his fingers coming up to rub against her opening and the wetness that coated it. Pansy lost control of her voice, moans leaving her lips like a symphony.

When Percy pushed the first finger inside of her, she felt like she could sing. She began to crest over that peak, her body humming with that familiar electricity of their soul bond. But this time, it was tinged with something else. Something  _ more _ . 

“You are so good, Pansy. So beautiful.” Percy cooed as he added another finger, his mouth gleaming with her slick. His eyes found hers as his mouth resumed its ministrations. 

Pansy’s chest swelled at the praise, and she tentatively ran her fingers through Percy’s auburn curls. When he moaned as she tugged slightly, her entire body broke out in goosebumps. She did it again, and he curled her fingers inside of her in such a way that made her realise he  _ liked  _ it. He liked the pain of having his hair pulled. 

She kept her fingers tangled in his curls as he devoured her, pressing his face harder against her as that peak came closer. Percy’s free hand came up to grip her breast roughly, tugging on the nipple as he squeezed. With a few more pumps of his fingers, Pansy came with that scream he’d promised her so long ago, her hands holding his head in place as she bucked her hips against his mouth. 

After a few moments, Percy sat up, his face shining in saliva and slick with dark and hungry eyes. “ _ Now, _ you’re ready.” 

“Then fuck me,” Pansy pleaded. She didn’t beg, but she’d beg for this—for him. “Please.” 

Percy’s body pressed flush against hers as he climbed back atop her. The taste of her on his mouth only made Pansy want him more as their kiss turned frenzied. His cock rubbed against her, completely soaked and throbbing. 

She’d never felt this before, the uncontrollable urge, the desperate need of want. It had once terrified her, but now she clung to it, angling her hips to allow Percy to push into her. 

And Salazar save her, it felt like heaven. 

It hurt a bit at first, his length stretching her in a way Pansy had never felt before. But once it subsided, and Percy began to move, it truly was the best thing she had ever felt. Hot breath coated her neck from where his head was buried in it, his tongue and lips messily reaching for contact. 

The grip of his hands on her hips should have hurt, but Pansy relished in it. It tethered her to her body, the soul bond causing sparks and fire to wash over her skin. One hand stayed gripped in Percy’s hair, tugging every time his pelvis thrusted against hers. Her other dug gently into his back as red crescent marks coated his skin. 

Pansy’s moan turned fervent as she climbed the peak again, this one much closer than the last. Percy sensed the shift in her tone, sitting up to look down at her while his thrusts slowed. 

“You’re so beautiful, Pansy,” he muttered, his arms circling her head as he leant down. Their mouths found each other in a wild kiss as Percy’s thrusts quickened. His tongue darted out to trail along her lips, and both of her hands now dug into his back. So close. She was so close. 

Percy wrapped a hand around her throat with gentle pressure, and it was all Pansy needed to come undone. Her moans and pants came in short gasps, stars blinking behind her eyes as she squeezed them shut. Percy let go of her throat as his pace became erratic, the sounds of slapping flesh and his grunts echoing in the room. 

Gripping his hair with both hands now, Pansy roughly pulled his mouth even harder against hers. Percy came with a muffled shout. She could feel it—the pressure of his come, the twitch and throb of his length even as it turned soft inside her. 

Collapsing beside her, Percy’s chest heaved, skin tinged with sweat. He let out a light laugh, and Pansy joined him. Their soulmate bond glowed bright between them, like a physical rope linking their souls and magic. It was stronger than it had been before, now that their bodies had connected what their souls already knew. 

“Next time,” Percy said as he pulled Pansy to his side, “You’re wearing those heels.” 

Pansy laughed and kissed his cheek. If this is what married life with Percy would be like, she welcomed it gladly. 

The Ministry really hadn’t messed up with this one. 


End file.
